


Read the truth

by finlyfoe



Category: Homeland
Genre: Advent Calendar 2016, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Mush, Gen, S.5 AU, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:01:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finlyfoe/pseuds/finlyfoe
Summary: The smell of mulled wine, a hint of snow in the air, candlelight in the windows… it’s early December, we’re nearing Christmas.… Here you will find the story of what really happened between Carrie, Quinn - and Berlin.My input for the LJ advent calendar on Dec 5, 2016thanks to koalathebear for betareading!





	

The smell of mulled wine, a hint of snow in the air, candlelight in the windows… it’s early December, we’re nearing Christmas.  
  
And still, and still… this story is not seeking to contend for the mushiness-contest hard-fought by some of us. No, it is strictly obliged to disclose the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth about hidden events from a certain December day in Berlin two years ago, because, as we all have suspected, season 5 was nothing but calculated disinformation … Here you will find the story of what really happened between Carrie, Quinn - and Berlin.

 

Let’s plunge right into the cold and grey city on said December day. The morning of the 5th.

Inside the part of the embassy which houses the CIA, close to Brandenburger Tor, a phone rings. The chief of support picks up.

“Peter”, a female voice with a discernible German accent speaks, “I need you for a special assignment. Tonight.”

Astrid.

She has helped him out on so many occasions - Islamabad, being just one instance … so even if what she's asking for is going to be something awkward, immoral or even downright dangerous, he’d still feel obliged to help. He doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t ask any questions, he simply says:

“OK, when and where?”

***

Does anyone want to know how Peter Quinn ended up as chief of support in Berlin? After all, the last thing _we_ learned was that he vanished into Syria…

After one year in that Godforsaken warzone, he very nearly met his maker. Found himself caught in an ambush, was severely wounded by gunfire, flown out to Ramstein airbase and locked up in a hospital ward for some long weeks.

He recovered - he always does, claims his friend Rob, joking about how Quinn's name on the bullet clearly must have been misspelled yet again. Rob’s girl-friend compares Quinn to the metaphorical cat with its nine lives - which gives Quinn something to think about. Nine lives?  He must have used them up by now…

Maybe his superiors have also done some calculating. They don’t send him back to Syria. Or to any other clandestine, dangerous warzone.

  
Which is a pity, as far as he is concerned. He doesn’t want to be at Ramstein nor state-side. He is still working on getting you-know-who out of his mind and out of his system. Piece of cake when under constant threat of death from mortar rounds. But lying in a hospital bed, where the most dangerous thing is the assistant doc and her clumsiness with syringes, and finding himself with all the time of the world at his hands?  That's another story entirely… He's put little post-its on his phone and on his tablet: “Don´t!!!”

Yes, you got that right.

Three exclamation marks.

 _Should_ be enough to keep him from checking out where to find her. She did leave him high and dry after all.  He's received the message loud and clear - end of story. He has to keep his shit together and carry on. Hospital. Rehab. Next assignment.

Still .. while very easy in theory, he every so often finds himself tempted to rip up those post-its and do the wrong thing.

*

So while Peter Quinn once again stares fixedly at his phone, Dar Adal and Saul Berenson are deep in conversation during a meeting in Berlin.

“I'm worried about Peter.” Dar Adal closes Quinn’s file with a sigh, pretty certain (and profoundly annoyed) that his guy had been shot because he hadn’t been entirely focused on the mission.

Saul, the newly appointed CIA director for Europe (a position while sounding great on paper was a source of major frustration given that he'd been aiming for the directorship that had gone to his old rival Adal) does not respond. Instead he starts whining about how Carrie Mathison had let him down, worse: has been sleeping with the enemy. (Figuratively speaking only – given her work for the billionaire Otto Duering at his famous foundation, we all know she is not literally sleeping with him… and never will, you hear that!)

Dar Adal is not in the best of moods. Today is clearly not his day - Peter’s file, no Berliner (kind of a German variation of a donut, similar dough, filled with jam, therefore _sans_ hole) at hand, his pathetic old cohort Saul getting on his nerves, Mathison a pain in the neck once more… Come to think of it, it might be advisable to regain some control over her. As Saul seems unwilling or unable to reconcile with her, there’s only one possible solution left, much as he hates even the thought of it.

 He harrumphs to get whining Berenson’s full attention. “The newly appointed Berlin station-chief-“

“Allison Carr…” Saul’s eyes give away a certain secret rapture.

“-she needs a new chief of support.”

“Right, she wanted to bring-“

“I’ll assign Peter Quinn.”

“But-“

“My decision is final.” _And don’t make me play the I-am-the-director-card, because I will without the slightest hesitation._

As much as he detests putting Peter back under her spell, it's worth a try.

He starts explaining to Berenson: It will take Peter half a day to figure out that Mathison is in Berlin, tops. Even if he doesn’t look out for her, the embassy grapevine will give him the full picture soon enough... he might end up being their most valuable link to her. Their C.I. Of course he’s not to know, or he'll blow it. Intentionally.

Saul looks surprised: Peter Quinn would want to find Carrie Mathison? But why?

Adal rolls his eyes.  Berenson's hopeless.

***

So it's Berlin for Peter Quinn. Berlin, home of hipsters and creatives, of spies and rude bus drivers, poor but sexy … and surprisingly cold in winter. Prussian Siberia, as some say…

Allison Carr is furious about the staff decision, or to be precise, she was (and remains) furious because she's had no say in it. She hasn’t quite decided what strategy to employ to keep Dar Adal’s watchdog on the leash: Binding him to her by seducing him or ignoring him as much as possible. It’s hard to tell what tactic might be more effective – this man is annoyingly polite, discreet, detached. Stone-faced.

Unsurprisingly, Adal's assumption was correct. It takes Peter Quinn less than half a day in the office to hear about Mathison and her new job in Berlin.

But, big let-down: He doesn’t follow up. October goes by, November goes by. December comes. He doesn’t follow up.

Annoying as it may be from a mission perspective, Adal is relieved: His guy seems to be cured of his affliction. At last.

*

Back to the early evening of December 5.

Astrid waits for Quinn in the lobby of the BND-building. After a perfunctory exchange of kisses, she hands over a huge bag: “Thanks for coming – and that’s for today’s assignment, Peter.” Quinn peeks inside. Turns to her with incredulous eyes: “This is a Santa Claus costume.”

“No – not quite. It is a Nikolaus costume. Not your Coca Cola mascot – a saintly bishop, 4th century or thereabouts, Smyrna. See, Turkish migrant workers have a long tradition in Germany… On December 6, he brings German children nuts and chocolates and gingerbread and-”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Hear me out, Peter. Tradition is, children put a plate or a boot in front of their window or the door, and in the morning, it is filled with treats.”

“Yeah, but-“

“Hear me out, Peter!- Tonight we have a little Nikolaus-celebration at the BND for the employees and their families, and the Nikolaus himself will hand out things to the kids. It’s done like this everywhere, at soccer clubs, kindergartens, Christmas markets … the scouts have one visiting, some families order one to come to their homes. Actually, did I mention Nikolaus has a dark sidekick, Knecht Ruprecht, who seizes naughty children and puts them in a sack?”

“Fuck me, and you want me to-“

“No, Peter, relax. You don’t have to play the bogeyman for us”, and she grants him a smile. “You’ll be the good guy… the kids will love you.”

“Astrid… where’s the camera?”

“Camera?”

“Yeah, there must be a hidden camera - you can’t be serious…”

“I am, Peter! The guy we booked for tonight has called in sick, the secretary tried every other option – every available Nikolaus agency, that is - , but tonight every Nikolaus in Berlin is obviously booked out…”

“Go out on the streets and ask one of those hipster-bearded students hanging around in the laundrettes, sipping latte macchiato and being so creative on their tablets…”

“Peter – even if I stepped out now and found somebody right away – there’s no way we would get security clearance in time. You have one. I really need you here. Two hours tops…”

“What about your boss, the grumpy one…” 

“He might mark those kids for life! It’s your call, Peter. You’ll impersonate a great Nikolaus. Come on, move out of your comfort-zone!” She looks at him, amused, unrelenting…

Yeah, he owes her. He sighs and nods.

“You’re a darling”, she says and drops a light kiss on his cheek, whispering in his ear with her bedroom-voice “after this whole shebang, we deserve a little treat, what do you think?….”

 *

Rehearsal time.

  
“Peter, just say – ah, say nothing, simply smile and nod and pat their heads.” – Astrid is obviously not impressed with his German. She approves of his appearance though. “Who would have thought that you'd be such a natural as Nikolaus?”

 “Write me some lines in phonetic transcription. We do this right or not at all - kids brave enough to talk to Santa Claus deserve some acknowledgement…”

“You Americans! Peter, I repeat: You are NOT impersonating Santa Claus!”

Well, he definitely _looks_ like Santa Claus. Long red coat with white trim, white beard – although there is no Santa hat, the mitre on his head gives him an air of bishop-like grandeur.

Astrid smiles and takes a series of selfies – Astrid kissing Santa Claus’ - no Nikolaus’ cheek. She is in high spirits – Nikolaus is one of her favorite traditions. Her good mood is contagious. In the next selfie, a smiling Nikolaus kisses _her_ on the cheek.

*

Carrie picks Frannie up from kindergarten. Searching for mittens and Frannie's hat, she listens with a smile on her face to the enthralled child: Nikolaus will be visiting tonight and leave her little presents, can she stay up and try to catch a glimpse of him?! This will be so exciting! She is looking forward to it so much!!   Carrie hugs her daughter, grateful that Jonas had warned her to buy some candy and other sweets so that she might fill in for the overly busy Nikolaus. He’s a sweetheart - Jonas, her co-worker at the foundation. In his thirties, handsome, easy to talk to. For a lawyer. And the best thing: He’s a ginger.

God, she hasn’t had sex in  … 18 months?! An age.

And she really really needs to. Jonas will be perfect – maybe not so much for a wild night but for something better, more mature. A normal, healthy relationship. Serious dating for a couple of weeks, then moving in together. She can do this – commit to a meaningful, grown-up relationship. She will.

They've plans for a date for tonight. He’ll come by for a drink when Frannie’s in bed, and she definitely won't be asking him to leave before … God this will be their first time together  – the mere thought makes her nervous … unsteady …

Out of the blue she thinks of Quinn.

If some guy showed up, claiming to be Nikolaus but unable to prove it -  what would Jonas do? He’d call the police, like every educated, law-abiding man. What would Quinn do? Grab poor Nikolaus, knock him unconscious, search him and then tie him up. – Wouldn’t that make for a nice inside-joke: What’s the difference between a lawyer and special ops guy? Ask Nikolaus after they’ve dealt with him…

She smiles to herself. Living in a civilized western city, there's not a doubt in her mind about who would make for a better life-partner for her and substitute father for Frannie … not that she has any choice, after that fucker ran out on her ... Still … she’d like to know if he's ok, somewhere in Syria.  She shakes off the thought. He didn’t bother to let her know he was leaving, so: end of story. She’s moved on. New job, new city, new guy - she’s working on it.

She squeezes her daughter’s hand: “Hey sweetie, how about we go to one of those Christmas markets and you get a nice warm cinnamon apple cider?”

Frannie throws her arms around her mom and nods, her eyes bright with anticipation.

*

The performance goes smoothly, Peter nearly enjoys himself, having so many enraptured faces looking up at him with fascinated eyes, their voices hesitant, then, on his approving nod, becoming more self-assured… – until he sees his boss. Allison Carr. Sitting in a corner at the back, talking to Astrid’s surly boss, and he knows for sure, he doesn’t want to meet _he_ r here. Doesn’t want her to know about his little engagement here. She’s not the kind of person he wants to know anything about him, truth be told. So after the show it’s the backdoor, and as he is a cautious man, in full disguise a.k.a. costume. His own clothing stuffed in a plastic bag.

Astrid will have to stay another hour or two.  They've arranged to meet up again later on and he's looking forward to it. To be with her – to have sex.  He's almost aching for it. It seems like eons since he's touched a woman.

*

Quinn is not comfortable at all with walking through Berlin dressed up as Nikolaus. The most irritating thing is: People notice him and – they smile! Not only the children like back at the BND – but the adults as well. It’s a disconcerting experience.

He has to find a public restroom and get changed asap. By his reckoning, the next one might be at the nearest Weihnachtsmarkt, Christmas market, and that can’t be too far away. Those Germans are crazy about their Weihnachtsmärkte and there are dozens of them in Berlin, one at every other corner. Any urban space of more than 20 qm gets a wooden hut with a license to sell mulled wine, another one sells potato fritters or sausages or grilled mushrooms – there it is, your Weihnachtsmarkt!

There are some tiny ones, featuring three or four stands only, others are huge, with carnival rides, going overboard with enough decorations to be able to light up a middle-sized town in the hinterland.

Small or large, they all have one thing in common: They're packed. Because it's not just the Germans, it's also tourists from the UK, Belgium, the Netherlands, your odd American – wherever, who are infatuated with this kind of retail activity.

So he has to make his way through the crowd, looking out for a restroom sign, clutching his plastic bag, and he can’t even be rude and push through because, hell, he’s Santa Claus and he’s supposed to be the good guy! Nikolaus! Whatever!

The kids giggle and point and he nods, he doesn’t get a word anybody says because somewhere up on a makeshift stage he can hear trumpets, trombone – all sorts of brass instruments playing Christmas carols.

All of a sudden, finding himself affected by the atmosphere, he decides he might as well have some mulled wine before he gets changed.

He walks up to the counter, hollers at the guy behind the counter “Glühwein mit Schuss” (which is not rude, you have to holler or you have to lean over that counter and nearly lose your balance to be heard, and Santa Claus, Nikolaus, doesn’t lean over, he hollers!), and is handed a hot drink in a mug, smelling of cinnamon, cloves and rum. He takes a sip, fuck it’s hot and sweet - and pretty disgusting. Just to make sure, he takes another sip and then another.

Yup. 

It's disgusting. 

A secret he's learned in life: Disgusting stuff gets better if you get used to it. It really does.

He orders a second mug. The two girls next to him giggle at the sight of him drinking cautiously to avoid dying his beard with the hot drink. Ah, the stuff tastes crappy but it IS very relaxing, no shit… He takes in the noises of people chatting animatedly, a constant hive of activity and he finds that his foot starts tapping to the cadence of the carols.

Two meters away, at the very same counter, is a blonde woman. A blonde woman with a little red-haired girl on her arm. The girl’s holding a mug, the woman’s holding the girl and a mug. The kid catches sight of him and smiles, says something to her mom, her mom turns around, she smiles, of course she smiles, you gotta smile with a cute daughter like that clinging to your arm, cuddling up, and Peter’s heart is breaking. No shit. He can _hear_ it break - and it sounds like the shattering of … porcelain for some reason.

“My mug!”, the woman shouts and stares at the mess on the ground.  The guy between them both, the guy who's just knocked Carrie’s mug to the ground, shrugs and disappears into the crowd.

Peter can see Carrie mouth the word “asshole”, but she doesn’t say it aloud. She doesn’t go after that guy and corner him. She simply smiles at her kid.

 _Fuck._  
_Relax._  
_Draw a breath._  
_Stay calm. Of course she doesn’t recognize you._  
_Sip your fucking Glühwein and keep your eyes off._

Carrie bends over the counter to order another drink and tries to balance the kid while getting her purse out.

And then he does it. The Glühwein bypassing his brain obviously. Peter steps up, stretches out his hands, offering non-verbally to take Frannie so that Carrie can use both hands to get that purse and pay.

Carrie looks up, surprised. “That’s kind of you, thank you, but I don’t think she will go to strangers.”

Next thing Frannie squeaks with joy and stretches out her arms towards Nikolaus.

“Ah, ok” Carrie says dismissively, hands Frannie over and starts rummaging her bag, throwing him controlling glances every so often.

“Hi, Frannie”, Peter whispers because he doesn’t want Carrie to hear it, “remember me?” Frannie starts plucking his beard with devotion.

“Dankeschön, Nikolaus”, Carrie says, “she’s so tired… Long day… she’s gotta walk home though, can’t be helped…”

The man shrugs and keeps the child on his arms.

“I can take her back now, thank you,” Carrie insists.

“No problem.” The man keeps the child.

Carrie’s not so sure she should have drunk that second mug of mulled wine. She starts imagining things… Santa Claus here sounding like… like…

She looks at him sharply. Can’t be, or can it –she steps forward, there is virtually no way you can recognize someone who hides behind a beard like this and stands in a dark corner at a Glühweinbude, especially not if he doesn’t talk or gesture but but but-

No. Can’t be. If it was Quinn, he would have identified himself … – _she_ is not in disguise after all. She finds herself feeling kind of annoyed that she's thinking of that fucker again.

“We should be going”, she says. The Nikolaus nods and keeps standing there.

“Me and my daughter, can you please give her back to me now?”

_Ah, that’s more like Carrie! She definitely starts sounding pissed off…_

Well, there’s an unexpected problem. Frannie is not willing to leave Nikolaus’ arm in order to walk home.

“Frannie – we've got to go! Please! It’s not that far, you’re a big girl-“

“No”, Frannie says, closes her eyes and pretends to be asleep on Quinn’s, well Nikolaus’  arm. Then opens one eye and smiles at her mom: “Me’s sooo tired…”

“Frannie – we got to go. Please. You've got to walk. Mommy will hold your hand. You’re too big, I can’t carry you all the way…”

“I can”, Nikolaus says and to Carrie’s (and his own) surprise he piggy backs the little girl and gives Carrie a reassuring look.

“OK”, Carrie says, her eyes narrowed and kindling with anger, “let’s go.”

*

Carrie takes the lead, Frannie and Nikolaus follow. At the first corner, Carrie decides to walk alongside. She’s silent, clearly still angry by the unwanted interference from this stranger and also at her daughter. Frannie’s quiet too, Peter can feel her head resting against his back, yes, she _is_ tired.

And all of a sudden, Peter realizes that’s what his life would have been. Walking alongside Carrie, Frannie on his back, cuddling up. If she'd said yes. This would have been his routine. And for one moment, his throat tightens. He can’t breathe. He has to stop to catch his breath.

_Breathe in – exhale. Let go. No anger. No violence. Just breathe._

“Let me get her, it’s only a little bit further - ”, Carrie says, wondering if he's having some sort of dizzy spell. Well, actually he is, but for very different reasons than she might imagine… 

He shakes his head in silence and walks on in silence. Frannie starts humming Christmas carols.

They arrive at the door.

“Thank you, that was very – kind.”

Nikolaus lifts the kid over his head to put her back on the ground, but she gets tangled in the arrangement that is his wig and the mitre.  Both are ripped from his head, his dark hair revealed as the wig and the mitre fall onto the ground. Nikolaus bends down, and so does Carrie, both intent on picking up the fallen items, and that’s how their faces end up being close. Really close. Eye-to-eye-close. She knows these eyes…

 “Quinn?” she says and steps back. “Quinn!”, and there’s more than a hint of indignation in her voice.

“Carrie.” He stuffs the wig into his plastic bag, not looking at her.

“Wow. This is – this is – what are the odds for…”

She starts circling around him, incredulous, points at the red coat. “So you’re finally out and have a new job now?”

“Looks like it”, he replies, all the time very focused on the plastic bag in his hand.

“Jesus, Quinn…” and because he still doesn’t look at her, she steps up, too close to be ignored, she raises on her toes, so they are at eye-level again.

She would be swearing up a storm if it wasn’t for Frannie looking on – head cocked, intent on what her mom is discussing with Nikolaus.

“So – were you going tell me it’s you or would you have just left without saying a word?”

He shrugs and she realizes, this is fucked-up. She feels a wave of anger sweeping over her, but there’s something else… He’s here. Unharmed, by the look of it. Or maybe it’s just the mulled wine making her feel so … mushy.

She wraps her arms around him and whispers in his ear,

“Where’ve you been? Quinn, this last year, everywhere I went, I looked for you. I tried to find you. I never stopped thinking about you…”

He stiffens for a moment or two, then something changes, he relaxes imperceptibly.

 “Doesn’t matter now…”, he mumbles.

….

Frannie's standing there with big eyes, squeaking with delight: Her mommy is kissing Nikolaus! Just like in the movies!–

*

So, who’s not ok with a kiss at the end of a story?

Well, folks – I am. Have _you_ ever tried kissing a guy wearing an artificial beard? I mean, not a fancy one like from the movies or from some upper class theatre production – I'm talking about your average cheap Santa-Claus/Nikolaus-version?

My advice: Don’t.

Carrie breaks away and shakes her head.

“That really has to go”, she says and tears at his fake facial hair.

“Your daughter’s watching...” he mumbles.

“You already lost your wig, Quinn. I won’t let you go now – I don’t trust you. You wear a Santa Claus costume – “

“No, it’s Nikolaus, Carrie!”

She tries to keep her voice down, aware that she sounds agitated.  “I mean, you’ve always been kind of unpredictable, I'm not going to let you eff off to some, some- shopping zone... we’re going to tell her you weren’t Nikolaus in the first place…More like the frog in the fairy-tale, you know? Under a curse, and I broke the curse with a kiss…”

She would have loved to hear him say “And you did”.  Any other guy would have taken the hint - it would have made for a great line, after all. Not Quinn though. Not Quinn. He simply touches her face and gives her a small smile, dimples showing.  Then he cups her face, leans in and gives her another long, lingering kiss.

They could easily stay here forever and a day under the starry Berlin sky – but Frannie tucks at Carrie’s sleeve: “Mommy, I need to go to the bathroom…”

So the half-Santa and her mom break apart and smile shyly at each other.

“You’re coming in with us?”, Carrie says. 

 

*

In case anyone was wondering about the two people who ended up being stood up that night …

Quinn, while waiting for Carrie to return from Frannie’s bedroom, makes one quick call, voice hushed. “Hey… gotta cancel… I … ran into … Carrie.”

“Oh - your pushy girlfriend… “ Astrid sighs. After a tiny break, she adds: “Have fun.”

At the very same time, Carrie is typing a text, making sure she stays out of Quinn’s line of sight (even though she's not quite sure why): “Gotta cancel - cu tomorrow at work”. Then, with a smile, she makes her way back to Quinn waiting on the couch.

\- The end -


End file.
